


【jason中心】性欲的碎片/Pieces of sexual desire

by killinganger



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman: Under the Red Hood (2010)
Genre: M/M
Language: 中文-普通话 國語
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:55:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25145797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/killinganger/pseuds/killinganger
Summary: 罗宾桶总受
Kudos: 3





	1. 开始/The beginning

你的老板又向你发飙了。这个月的营业额并不高，但保护费还是一样得交。这个狭小的杂货店只需你和老板就能运转，还能勉强养活你们两个。这在哥谭已经很好了。所以你背过身忍下老板的脾气和砸向你的咒骂，锁好了店门。

回家的路上有一段典型的哥谭小路。半死不活的路灯与墙角的垃圾袋之间，你看到了那个身影。

罗宾……？

这太荒谬了。罗宾不是这样的。你见过那个知更鸟，他曾在你头顶翻飞，绚烂的色彩带着生命的活力，仿佛将太阳扯进了哥谭的迷雾之下。但你眼前这个男孩不是的，他像死亡凝成的肉块。你本应该逃走的，但你瞥见了男孩的眼睛，于是你失去了逃走的机会。你缓慢地走向他，他没有带面罩，那只蓝色的眼睛在黑暗中仿佛发出了光亮。你看到他脸上的血污，几乎盖住了面颊，半凝固的血液从断掉的鼻梁和一只空洞的眼窝中流出来，经过下巴掉在地上。他的披风破烂不堪，裂口凝着血液低垂，像濒死的植物。你的视线停在他的躯干。罗宾服消失了大半，也带走了躯干正面的皮肤与肌肉。残损的制服下是缺了一个口的肋笼，森森白骨的边缘还留有零星的肌肉。肋笼里的心脏隐约可见——它没有在跳。胸隔膜以下的内脏因为失去包裹而流了出来，一直拖到地上。流出的血染红了地面。此时你才发现你已经站在男孩的面前，呼吸可闻。

他笑了。

原来另一只眼睛在他的嘴里，你心想。

-tbc-


	2. 挑逗/tease

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 一口情欲的呼吸

指尖传来粘滞的触感，你这才发觉你的手抚上了男孩的侧脸。他的皮肤应该是光滑的，但半凝固的血液阻滞了你的手指，冰冷的体温像触须一样缠绕，你不愿离开这样的触感。男孩微微眯眼，加深了笑容，侧头轻蹭你的手。他似乎发出了一丝叹息，血腥味扑面而来，夹着死亡的气息进入你的肺，缠绕着你的心脏。你感到一股热流从后脑向尾椎骨落下，把男孩的血腥味带入了身体的深处。你看着男孩嘴里的那颗眼珠，掐开了他的下颚。男孩顺从地张嘴，并将眼珠推向外部。那颗眼珠还活着。湿润的表层不知是眼泪还是口水，蓝色的虹膜泛着微微荧光，瞳孔还在伸缩，似是一场邀请。男孩的牙齿几乎掉光了，剩下的几颗堪堪支起他的脸颊。口腔内的烂肉颤颤巍巍地渗着血，从眼珠后遮遮掩掩地向外流淌，在湿润的球体上留下浅粉色的痕迹。你俯身舔舐那片蓝色，冰冷的触感令你想起酒精里的冰块，也不出意外地尝到了铁锈的味道。你加深了这个吻，几乎将那眼珠吃进嘴里。你的舌头在球体表面滑动，吸吮它的角膜，牙齿剐过眼球的表面，感受着肉体的弹性。男孩仰头回应你逐渐加快的呼吸，剩下的一只眼里盈上了笑意，那布满血丝的眼睛泛着水润的亮光，挤出眼眶里的血液，蹭上你的脸。

The sticky touch of your fingertips makes you realize that your hand is touching the boy's face. His skin is supposed to be smooth, but the semisolid blood blocks your fingers, and the cold temperature twines like tentacles,all makes you don't want to leave the touch. The boy squints slightly, deepens his smile, and rubs his head against your hand. He seemed to give out a sigh, the smell of blood rushing to your face, holding the breath of death into your lungs, wrapped around your heart. You feel a rush of heat from the back of your head to your tailbone, taking the boy's blood deep into your body. You looked at the eye in the boy's mouth, and you pinched his jaw. The boy opened his mouth submissively and pushed his eyes outward. The eye is still alive. Wet surface do not know is tears or saliva, Blue Iris suffused with micro-fluorescence, pupil is still contracting, seems to be an invitation. The boy's teeth were almost gone, and the few that remained barely supported his cheeks. The rotting flesh in his mouth bled shakily from behind his eyes, leaving Pale Pink marks on the wet globe. You lean over and lick the blue, the cold touch that reminds you of ice in alcohol, and, not surprisingly, the taste of rust. You deepen the kiss, you almost eat the eye into your mouth. Your tongue slides across the surface of the sphere, sucking on its cornea, teeth scraping across the surface of the eyeball, feeling the elasticity of the flesh. The boy lifted his head in response to your quickening inhalation, and the rest of his eyes beamed with laughter, and the watery light of his bloodshot eyes squeezed the blood from their sockets and rubbed against your face.


End file.
